


Love isn't something you deserve

by Naarad



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Bisexual Oliver Queen, Bisexual Slade Wilson, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Lian Yu Island (Arrow TV 2012), M/M, Oliver feels lots of feelings, Oral Sex, Sharing Body Heat, Topping from the Bottom, mostly not very good ones, porn is there but there's also a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21584347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naarad/pseuds/Naarad
Summary: It wasn’t warm in the plane. It was never warm anywhere on this damn island. Wilson was freezing and now he’s going to get sick...and it’s all your damn fault. You useless piece of meat.Ollie felt his eyes burning from unshed tears. From shame and anger and something dangerously close to despair… He hated feeling like this. Hated feeling like there’s nothing he could do. He wanted to do something, anything.Sound of shaky breathing reached his ears once again. Before he knew what he was doing, Oliver made his way to cot Wilson curled up on, took off the shirt , slipped under the blankets and curled himself around other man’s rigid frame.
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Slade Wilson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 103





	Love isn't something you deserve

**Author's Note:**

> Baby's first time writing fanfiction, so please be gentle >_<  
> Not beta'd, all mistakes are mine
> 
> So yeah, Oliver is taking everything that happened since Gambit going down very, very hard. He's in a bad place. But I promises it's not hopeless.  
> Set days after first meeting Slade. Slight canon divergence (in part of characters maybe?). Wishful thinking, as you do.  
> Not a non-con, but not exactly a healthy sex encounter either, warning in case it's not your thing.  
> It's Oliver's POV, so keep in mind that the way he sees and understand things doesn't necessarily comply with reality.
> 
> One-shot for now, but if enough people like it I might write Slade's POV which can also clear some moments up a little.

Oliver's POV

_It‘s all your fault._

Even from ten feet away Oliver could hear Wilson’s teeth chattering, his breath labored and uneven. Fuck.

_What am I_ _gonna_ _do if he develops a fever? Not like this island has a drug store._

Oliver let slip a grim little smile, but really what he was feeling is fear. And guilt, and dread at the thought of loosing the only chance he had to survive both the hell of this island and even bigger threat of Fyer’s men. Oliver had no love for the radge, but even he wasn’t that dumb not to understand that he needed Wilson to survive. And he owed Wilson too, now. The only reason Oliver made it to the plane safely after running into Fyer’s goons this morning was this man’s quick thinking.

Realizing the was no way to slip past them, Slade jumped out in the open, diverting their attention, and sprinted down the path away from the plane. Only that path ended at the steep bank of the stream. Cornered by goons, he had no choice but to jump in. Ollie’s heart skipped a bit when he saw Slade dissapear in the fast deep waters. But then he heard goons radioing for reinforcements, turned and ran for safety of the plane. Where he spend next long agonizing hours praying, willing for Wilson’s safe return.

And beating himself up. He shouldn’t have left Wilson. He should’ve…

_What? Engage Fyer’s goons and get yourself killed ten seconds in? You’re don’t stand a chance in a fight and you know it. Fucking useless rich fuckboy. You can’t help him. Like you couldn’t help Sara. Couldn’t help your dad, couldn’t help Yao Fei... You lost them and now you gonna loose him too. Which is hardly surprising, letting people down is what you good at. It’s **all** you good at._

_~_

Wilson finally returned after nightfall. Ollie didn’t dare even look at him, let alone speak. He had half a mind to ran off, if he didn’t feel it would only make things worse since it would make Wilson suffering for nothing. Luckily, the other man was too exhausted to do anything other than strip off his wet clothes, drink the hot brew Oliver made sure to prepare in advance and burrow under dry but thin blankets, trying desperately to get warm.

It wasn’t warm in the plane. It was never warm anywhere on this damn island. Wilson was freezing and now he’s going to get sick...

_and it’s all your damn fault. You useless piece of meat._

Ollie felt his eyes burning from unshed tears. From shame and anger and something dangerously close to despair… He hated feeling like this. Hated feeling like there’s nothing he could do. He wanted to do something, anything.

Sound of shaky breathing reached his ears once again. Before he knew what he was doing, Oliver made his way to cot Wilson curled up on, took off the shirt , slipped under the blankets and curled himself around other man’s rigid frame.

He inhaled sharply when his bare skin touched ice-cold of Wilson’s. Yet another pang of guilt sparked under the ribs. Coupled with genuine pity for a man, it pushed Oliver to pull a body currently shivering non stop against his chest in even tighter, covering cold hands with his and snaking one leg atop his shins. Buy which time his brain had finally caught up. Ollie tensed, fully anticipating justified violent retaliation for such a blatant invasion of personal space… so it caught him by surprise when he felt the body in his embrace gradually relax and even begin to lean in closer to oh-so-needed heat, breaths evening out and deepen.

_This is…_ _un_ _expected..._

The whirlwind of dark feelings swirling in Ollie’s chest began to subside, giving way to something lighter, warmer.

_I’m helping._

And the help was welcome!

_So... maybe not so useless after all._

Ollie’s brain latched onto this thought like a drowning man latches onto the lifebuoy. It made him feel better... but it wasn’t enough. He was still drowning. He needed more of this feeling, needed to do more. Oliver needed to feel **good**.

Wilson once again shifted slightly in his embrace, refocusing Oliver’s mind back to reality.

Wilson. Lying with Oliver under the covers. With nothing separating them but thin fabric of pants.

_My pants._  
  
 _Not_ _Wilson_ _’s._ _Wilson_ ' _s_ _not wearing any. What is he wearing?…_

Oliver tried to recall in his mind - Wilson came in, didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything, just drank up and stripped and…

_Stripped. Took his clothes off._   
  
_**All** of his clothes._

_**Wilson** **is naked.**  
_

Naked body pressed to his. In Oliver’s case it usually meant only one thing happening – sex.

Sex is good. Oliver liked sex. Oliver missed sex.

And he was good at it. It was one thing Oliver knew for a fact he was good for. And right now, he desperately needed to be **good.**

That need outweighed whatever hesitation Oliver had.

Oliver moved his head forward, until his face pressed into dump short dark hair. He inhaled. It smelled a little like river, but more of the forest and soil and rain. Underneath all that, was smell distinctly his, Wilson’s. It filled Oliver with odd comfort. And something else. He deepened his head, nuzzling farther down, reaching the nape, and carefully, lightly pressed his lips to exposed skin. Skin that was still too cold. Oliver let out a big warm breath directly at it. That finally earned him a response from his bedmate.

A barely audible, but clearly surprised and confused “ _Hoh...”_

Oliver knew - sex wasn’t really all that complicated. You just needed to know which buttons to push.

_First button found._

Feeling better about himself already, Oliver proceeded with his experiments, slowly dragging a calf up the shins, then back down, but this time, his bare foot sliding along the naked skin. The motion that brought his crotch even closer to the very firm ass. Which, apparently, was enough stimulation for Oliver’s willy to pertly stir up in attention.

And the other man must have felt it. Because the next thing Oliver knew Wilson was twisting his head and half turning to face him.

Oliver wasn’t sure what he expected to see in his face… Anger, dismay, disgust? He definitely didn’t expect to see

_disbelief, confusion, question, hesitance…_

_...hope?_

_Slade?... what…_

The look in Slade’s eyes was intense, too intense for Oliver to deal with right now. So he closed his eyes instead and moved to skim his lips over Slade’s cheekbone, down over his nose, and lower, grazing his teeth lightly along the strong jawline. And then, for good measure, licked a wide stripe from ear straight to adam’s apple, that bobbed visibly in response. Except that was the only response he received.

_Not good. He’s hesitating. No. Can’t let this stop now. No time for the long play, up the game._

In one fast liquid move Oliver let go of Slade and turned him fully on his back, propped himself up on elbows and knees, then continued to drag his face down along the sensitive patch between the pecks, only to take a sharp left turn and land open mouthed on the nipple; with few flicks of his tongue he made it stand up, then bit down lightly with his teeth. With the heavily breathed yet very audible “Ha-ah!” Slade’s whole body tensed and relaxed in one undulated move.

_Yes, that’s what we're talking about! Just keep pushing the right buttons. Good going, Mr. Queen._

Who could had thought this cold, reserved, ruthless soldier would turn out to be so sensitive, so responsive…

He needed to make sure of the progress, though. With his mouth busy working on left nipple, Oliver slid his right hand firmly down the side of Slade's torso, counting every rib with his fingers, lower still along the outside of his thigh, then back up with the lighter touch by the back of his hand along the more sensitive skin of the inner thigh, bringing open palm to the groin -

_Semi. Good. We can definitely work with that._

Slade was full on panting now, quiet abrupt “Oh...” and “Huh..” escaping his lips between the labored breathes every time Oliver hit the more sensitive spot or strengthened his onslaught on already so sensitive nerves under the skin…

Again not waiting to waste any time, and honestly, give himself time to stop and think, Oliver slid his whole body down, nestling to lay between the thighs, propping himself on left elbow, placing the palm at the top of the thigh to caress the sensitive skin in the crease. His right had snaked between the thighs to cup tightening ballsack. He gave it a gentle squeeze, marveling at the feel and the weight on his palm, then few tags, each next one stronger but still careful. He then pressed and ran his fingers over the sensitive spot lower under the sack, eliciting an almost breathless “Ah! Ngahh! Hah..” from Slade’s tensed up throat.

Slade wasn’t the only one breathless, though. Oliver only now noticed that he was beginning to feel lightheaded.

_Hey, you got to breathe._

_Breathe in..._  
  
...face right above crotch, thick smell of sweat and pre-come and **sex** and **man** invaded Oliver’s senses, making his head swim, making it hard to think…

_...breathe out._

His warm breath landing on coarse short hairs and tight skin of now fully erect length of another man’s penis, strained, pre-come glistening on the tip.

_Final stretch, Queen. Bring it home._

Oliver pushed his mind to focus, bringing his open mouth right to the tip… only to feel hands tugging gently but firmly at his long hair, raising his face up and away from the crotch.

“Kid… gho-od… huh… dammit… wait!” he heard Slade’s low gravelly voice, struggling to get the words out.

_What’s wrong? Why is he stopping me? Doesn’t he want this? He’s clearly aroused, I made sure of that, thank me very much. Doesn’t want me? Why? Or is it that he’d never been with a man before?_

If that was the case, then the joke was on Slade, because it was Oliver who was about to get a man off for the first time in his life.

And frankly, Oliver was beginning to feel quite offended by apparent rejection, after all the work and the effort he put in…

_Damn it, Queen! You just had to gone and done it._

_This was a simple play. All you had to do is hunker down and play it through like the champ that you are. But no, you allowed yourself to start thinking and feeling and now… **One thing** you’re supposed to be good at. And you’re screwing it up too._

Oliver froze.

Slade, who now was looking at him fully conscious, present, must’ve seen it in his face, read it in his eyes, because his expression shifted to something softer, genuine concern in his voice when he spoke: “Hey. You don’t have to… it’s all happening so fast, too fast… I can’t…” He was looking straight into Oliver’s eyes now: “I need to know that you want this. With me. That’s the only way it’s happening. That’s the only way it can happen between us.”

_Us._

_The way he said it…_

A fresh wave of shame washed over Oliver. There was no _Us_ in Oliver’s mind. Slade’s words forced him face the truth - that Ollie was only doing it to make himself feel better, make himself feel good. Just like he always did. He was using Slade, plain and simple. Using him even after everything Slade has done for him.

_What_ _t_ _he_ _fuck_ _is wrong with you?_ _What kind of worthless piece of shit does this to another person? You don’t deserve this look, you don’t deserve his concern, you don’t even deserve a fleeting thought. He should just take you and have his way with you and throw you out, cause that’s all you deserve, that’s all you ever deserved._

“Just do it, Wilson. I know you want to. I’m right here, take it!” Oliver wanted it to sound teasing, but even as words were coming out he heard tears of anguish slipping through in his voice.

It was clear that Slade heard it too, because he was now looking at Oliver with the mix of confusion and sadness and compassion and it all was just too much!… He couldn’t bear it, he needed to make that look go away.

Determined, in one fast coordinated motion he grabbed the base of Slade’s length with his hand and swallowed the rest of it down, as far as he could. Slade wasn’t huge, but he wasn’t small either. Even with the hand Oliver struggled to take him in whole. He was choking and gagging, leaking spit and couldn’t quite catch his breath – but he didn’t let himself stop even though he felt completely miserable.

_Good. This is what you deserve. This is what you get for being complete failure of a human._

He heard Slade cursing, yelling “Damn it kid, stop! Don’t!”, felt him desperately pull at his hair with both hands, trying to yank him off. Slade’s hands pulled so hard that it hurt.

_Good._

Oliver wasn’t letting loose, and Slade was already on the edge even before Oliver’s mouth touched him, so stowing away the release proved to be an impossible task.

The man came hard, hot thick liquid invading Oliver’s mouth, too much to swallow - he was choking and coughing, with come spilling past his lips and down his neck, his chest. Slade was still shaking from orgasm but he managed to finally yank Oliver’s head off, then kick him clear off of himself and on the cold floor. His body landed with a thump, side hurting from the kick, still coughing and gagging a little. Oliver didn’t care. He just lay there silent, waiting. Waiting for Wilson to come down from the high, to start yelling, cursing at him, beat him up, throw him out. He deserved it and he expected it.

What Oliver didn’t expect is Slade, still naked, grabbing him, gathering him up to his chest, and putting his mouth on Oliver’s. He was so surprised by it he forgot to protest. It was a kiss, but it was more than that. Slade’s tongue made his way inside his mouth, slowly, carefully licking the come away, working with thorough determination. And when he was done, he moved open mouthed to Oliver’s face, down to his chin, his neck, his chest, making sure not a single drop was left. The sensation was so different from what his brain anticipated that it stopped processing altogether.

“Kid? Oliver?” apparently, Slade was done cleaning up, cause he was now just holding Oliver tightly in his embrace, searching for his eyes, waiting for him start paying attention. Still not quite all there, Oliver turned his head and met his gaze.

“I don’t know why you did what you just did... why you made me _hurt_ you like _this_ ” Slade voice trembled on the second part, he inhaled, then exhaled slowly. He moved his hand to gently grab the side of Oliver’s face. “But I know this – as long as I’m here with you, this will never happen again. NEVER. I won’t let it”. Slade was looking directly into his eyes now, intently, as if trying to reach in the darkest depths of Oliver’s soul. “Nobody deserves to be treated like this, you hear me? YOU don’t deserve to be treated like this! And if anyone ever tells you any different , they will get closely acquainted with the sharp edge of my blade. That is my promise to you, kid. **And I keep my promises.** ” That last part was said with such heart and conviction, that for a moment Oliver almost allowed himself to believe that.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here it is. Hope you like it! Comments are very, very much appreciated!


End file.
